


Tea & Sympathy

by bzarcher



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Description of Injuries, Discussion of Treatment, F/F, Happy Ending, Just like what it says on the tin, Lemon Tea, Lemon Tea Maker, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, OT3, Playing Doctor but not like that, Podfic Welcome, Polyamory, Slow Build, Sympathy, Tea, Widowtracer, field medicine, gingerspider, widowtracily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 10:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16195247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Emily is used to helping patch up her girlfriend and making a good cuppa. But a very unexpected visitor changes everything.





	Tea & Sympathy

The first time, none of them really knew what they would be getting into.

Emily had been watching a movie and trying not to think about Lena being out with her teammates, fighting to protect the Underground just a few blocks away, when the power went out.

That was a bit odd in London these days, but King’s Row had some of the oldest infrastructure in the city. Brownouts happened now and again, and blackouts were rare, but still possible.

Emily wanted to hope the power would be restored quickly, but given the way most avoided the Row after dark, she wasn’t expecting much before morning.

Hopefully they wouldn’t lose anything in the fridge.

She carefully navigated to the hall closet, pulled out a few candles and a box of matches, and had been reading a book by candlelight when the sound of the balcony door made her look up.

“Oh, good, I’d been worried about you since we lost…”

Emily’s voice died in her throat as she realized that the woman who had come in to her flat _wasn’t_ her girlfriend.

Or perhaps it was better to say it wasn’t _only_ her girlfriend, as the blue skinned woman standing in the doorway was carefully cradling Lena’s limp form against her chest.

Emily stared at the stranger, eyes wide, her mind frozen with panic.

_Widowmaker. That has to be Widowmaker. How many blue women are there, anyway? That’s WIDOWMAKER and she’s got Lena and LENA WHAT HAPPENED?!_

As if Widowmaker could hear her, she looked down at Lena’s limp form. “She was hit. Her...device...was not working.” She looked up, meeting Emily’s eyes with a predator’s gaze. “She told me to bring her here.”

Emily stepped closer, and she could see the dark red stain that marred Lena’s thigh, and a smaller, more superficial looking wound visible beneath a rip in her jacket’s sleeve, probably from a grazing hit.  
  
Her panic was gone in an instant as the need for action took over her brain. “Here - we’ll need to take her into the bedroom so I can get a look at her leg.” Emily gestured with a jerk of her head to the hallway, then led Widowmaker down the hall, pointing to the bed as she continued on to the bathroom.

“Set her down as gently as you can. Can you tell me what happened?”

Widowmaker’s voice was surprisingly low and soft for a ruthless assassin, a bit monotone but with the French accent beneath it.

“They were trying to stop a bomb. I had been ordered to make sure it reached the destination.”

Emily gave a little grunt as she brought the heavy toolbox she’d turned into their medical kit back into the bedroom. “I knew about that. She told me a bit about it before she left. I thought it was just those stupid Humans First bastards.”

Widowmaker shrugged, her eyes never leaving Lena’s unconscious form. “Their attack suited our...suited _Talon’s_ goals.”  
  
“Such as they are,” Emily muttered darkly as she opened up the kit and began to arrange what she would need on the blanket. Rescue scissors. Betadine swabs. Biotic patches. Dressings. Sutures.

Widowmaker didn’t disagree. Either she felt the same, which Emily doubted, or she was smart enough not to antagonize her. “The bomb went off early...but it was not an explosive. It was an EMP weapon.” Her voice took on a note of distaste. “They did not tell us this.”

Emily snorted as she took the scissors and began to cut away Lena’s tights. She snapped on a pair of gloves, and carefully peeled the blood soaked fabric back from the skin. “I suppose some things never change.” Lena’s colour still looked good. She’d likely passed out from pain and shock, but wasn’t bleeding out. The wound itself seemed as clean as a shot from what she’d guess was a high powered rifle could be.

“Tracer had been chasing me,” Widowmaker continued, and there was a touch of something in her voice that Emily couldn’t quite identify at first. “She pushed me off a rooftop - forced me to move out of position, and we began to trade shots as we danced.”

 _Oh_ , Emily realized. _That must be what she sounds like when she’s enjoying herself._

That little bit of pleasure drained from Widowmaker’s voice as she went on. “Someone set the bomb off prematurely. I’m not sure what happened, exactly - we were too far away, and I…” Widowmaker hesitated, and her voice lowered to barely a whisper. “I turn my radio off. When we fight. So they cannot order me to break off.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at the confession, but most of her attention was on disinfecting Lena’s leg wound so she could get the biotic patch on it to encourage the tissue to heal.

Widowmaker didn’t seem to notice her silence, or perhaps she didn’t really need the encouragement to continue.

“When it went off, her device...the harness...it shut off. She’d been jumping out of my fire. I had already taken the shot.” Widowmaker’s voice had taken on a distinctly embarrassed tone. “I was shocked when it actually hit her.”

Emily couldn’t resist a dark little laugh. “Not half as much as she was, I’m sure.”

Widowmaker seemed surprised for a moment, then gave a little chuckle. “Perhaps.”  
  
Emily tore open the patch and applied it to the wound, watching the faint glow as the impregnated fabric discharged the nanosurgeons it had been saturated with. Brilliant thing. Emily wished that they weren’t so bloody hard to get.

“The shot was clean through,” she explained to Widowmaker as she pulled what was left of Lena’s tights off of her legs and wrapped a bandage around the thigh to keep the patch in place until it had finished its work. “Should heal up nicely.”

Widowmaker let out a little sigh, and Emily pretended not to hear the words of thanks she muttered under her breath.

Getting Lena’s jacket off didn’t take long, and Emily had plenty of practice with removing the Accelerator.

To her great relief, the device hummed and went into charging mode the moment it was placed on the cradle. The EMP must have put it on the blink without doing more serious damage, and the charger’s backup battery would work until the power was restored. One less headache to worry about.

Thanks to a bit of topical anesthetic, Lena didn’t wake while she cleaned and stitched up the grazing wound on her arm, and it wasn’t long before Emily was pulling off her dirty gloves and putting them in a bag with the rest of her trash.

“She’ll probably sleep for a few more hours,” she explained to Widowmaker as she stood up. “But she’ll be fine.” She leaned over Lena and lightly pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling a little swell of affection as Lena smiled just a bit in her sleep. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to patch her up.”

“I had wondered why she insisted on coming to you,” Widowmaker admitted as she followed Emily back to the kitchen, “and not one of her...associates.”  
  
Emily turned around with a raised eyebrow. “You’re standing in my kitchen, wearing a Talon uniform, after watching me patch up the gunshot wound _you_ gave her.” Emily turned back around and let a little of her anger out by dunking the bag into the trash bin, then moved to fill the kettle at the tap. “I think you can say ‘Overwatch’, under the circumstances.”

Widowmaker took the rebuke without objection. “I suppose you have a point. To Overwatch, then. I did not know you were a doctor.”

“I’m not,” Emily corrected her as she put the kettle on the stove, and struck a match to light the burner.

Widowmaker’s eyebrows rose up, disappearing beneath the heavy crown of her visor. “You seemed quite experienced.”

“Well. I’ve had a bit of practice…” She coughed, and gave Widowmaker a better look. Emily wasn’t really sure what her ‘normal’ skin tone was supposed to be, but she was fairly certain the other woman still looked a bit pale and unsettled. “Do you want some tea? We can go sit down and I’ll explain.”

Widowmaker didn’t quite seem to know what to make of the offer, but finally nodded. “Very well.”  
  
“Lovely. Is chamomile OK? I usually need some to help settle my nerves a bit after…” Emily gestured towards the bedroom. “That. Besides - I’ve no idea if the milk will be any good for a black tea.”

Widowmaker just shrugged. “If that is what you are making for yourself, I do not object.”

Emily busied herself finding mugs and the box of herbal tea, gesturing for Widowmaker to go sit down and wait on the couch.

By the time she came out with two steaming mugs, Widowmaker had taken off her visor and the other accouterments of her suit. The candlelight made her skin tone a bit less alarming, and Emily had to admit that whatever else this woman was, she was certainly _pretty_.

“I got involved with omnic rights demonstrations while I was in school,” Emily explained once she’d had a sip of her tea. “We tried to keep things peaceful, but you may have noticed that most of the police - especially the ones assigned to riot duty - are thugs.”

Widowmaker gave a dry snort of amusement at that.

“Tempers flared a lot,” Emily continued, “and the plod was always happy to turn their backs while the whiteshirts or breaker gangs escalated things. Which meant a lot of people - human and omnic - got hurt. Since the police were unhelpful at best, and EMTs were usually prevented from getting past the cordon, that meant most were left to suffer unless someone took matters into their own hands...so I did.” Emily’s eyes drifted back to the hallway. “These days, field medicine is a useful skill to have when your girlfriend does...what Lena does. Especially before the recall went out.”

“I imagine it would be,” Widowmaker admitted before she took another sip from her mug. “This is good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Emily looked up towards the clock, then tutted at herself for the stupidity of trying to check a clock that wasn’t running. “Will this be a problem for you? Coming here, I mean.”

Widowmaker shook her head. “In a situation where an operation is blown or disrupted, I am expected to go to ground for a few days before requesting retrieval. I can claim my visor and my radio were damaged by the blast.” Her smile turned slightly puckish. “It may even be true."

Emily slumped just a little against the couch. “Oh, good. One less thing to worry about, at least.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “You could stay here on the couch for tonight. I get the impression you’d prefer to be around when she wakes up.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Once they had finished their tea, Emily made sure all of the lights were switched off so they wouldn’t wake her when the power came back on, and left Widowmaker with the spare blanket before she carefully joined Lena in bed.

Widowmaker stayed long enough the next day to see that Lena was waking up and that the biotic patch had mended her leg completely, and then she was gone, a barely whispered _“Merci beaucoup”_ passing her lips as she disappeared out the door.

Emily didn’t even think to ask how Widowmaker had known where they lived.

* * *

Lena decided to take a few weeks off after getting shot. Emily had done good work, but she needed a little time to do rehab before she was completely fit to fight, and Angela had agreed it was better for Lena to rest and recover than to leap back into things too quickly.

For Lena’s part she was using it as an excuse to snuggle a lot with her girlfriend, go out to a few of their regular spots, and catch up on shows.

Though if she was honest, by the end of the first week she was edging dangerously close to boredom when Emily wasn’t home.

She’d been trying (and failing) to maintain an interest in Premiership Darts when a noise at the balcony window got her attention. Scraping, like someone trying the wrong key.

“That’s _odd_ …” Lena turned off the TV, then stood to see what was going on. “Did a squirrel get trapped up there or something?”

She got her answer when she looked to the sliding glass door. “Oh, what the _hell._ ”

Widowmaker was standing there, wearing a long coat that draped down to her ankles, a cloth shopping bag hanging off one arm while she held a set of lockpicks in her hands.

Lena glared at her as she walked to the door, then slid it open. “You could have _knocked_.”

Widowmaker blinked several times, her expression finally settling into a disapproving frown. “You should not leave that door unlocked.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “We live on the top floor, and there’s no direct access from the roof. A burglar wouldn’t have a chance to get in that way.”

 _About the only person we really had to be afraid of_ , Lena didn’t say, _was you._

Widowmaker shrugged. “I suppose you have a point.”

Lena pointed at the bag. “Did you go shopping?”

“Your milk was spoiled, and I wanted to replace the tea we drank.” Widowmaker gestured towards the kitchen. “If I may come in…?”

Lena stared at her for a long moment, then took a few steps back. “That was a _week_ ago...but sure.”

Widowmaker stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. “Your leg is healed?” Her tone of voice hadn’t changed much, but Lena felt like she could detect a faint hint of concern.

“Yeah,” she answered as she lead the way into the kitchen. “Pretty much. Just taking it easy for a few days, getting a little time with Emily. It’s good to slow down a little after...well.” Lena turned to meet Widowmaker’s eyes. “It could have been worse, right?”

Widowmaker’s expression shifted from her usual smirk to something a bit regretful. “I...suppose it could.” She shrugged a bit as she opened the refrigerator and put the carton of milk inside. “My aim must have been affected by the bomb.”

As apologies went, it could have been better, but Lena had to admit she was impressed Widow was even _trying._ “At least you didn’t hit the accelerator,” Lena admitted. “Having the bloody thing zapped was bad enough to deal with.”  
  
“I did not know about the EMP,” Widowmaker admitted quietly as she put a few boxes of tea on the counter.

“Yeah, Em said.” Lena took one of the boxes and examined it. Emily’s preferred blend of chamomile. She’d apparently also picked up a nice Ceylon, and a box of PG Tips. Lena tapped that one with a slightly crooked grin. “Was this your safe pick?”

Widowmaker drew herself up, gathering her dignity around her along with the raincoat as she put the empty shopping bag into one of the pockets. “I was told it is quite popular.”

Lena giggled just a little at the idea of Widowmaker asking some poor kid in a Tesco what kind of tea to buy. “It is! It’s fine, really.” She looked over at the clock. Emily wouldn’t be home for a few hours. “Want a cuppa? I think we’ve got the stuff for cucumber sandwiches.”

Widowmaker blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “I...should be going. Talon will expect me to report in soon.”

“Oh, come on.” Part of Lena’s mind wondered what exactly she was doing, but the rest of her was happily taking Widowmaker by the arm and leading her back to the living room. “What were you going to do? Just leave the tea out, drop off the milk, and break back out? Where’s the fun in that?”

She’d maneuvered Widowmaker back to the couch before the other woman kicked back into gear, disengaging herself before giving a weary little sigh. “I suppose that if you _insist_ , I could have some tea. And a sandwich.”

“Brilliant - just take off that coat and relax a bit, would you? I’ll be back in two shakes.”

With a little investigation of what they had in the cupboard, Lena was able to produce two mugs of the PG Tips with milk and sugar, the sandwiches, some digestives, _and_ a bit of smoked salmon.

They’d both eaten their sandwiches and most of the fish before Lena decided to ask the question that had been on her mind.

“I didn’t tell you how to get back here before I passed out. How long have you known?”

Widowmaker stopped with the mug halfways to her lips, then put it back down on the coffee table before she spoke. “A few months.”

Lena sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Talon knows where I live?”

Widowmaker shook her head. “They do not.” She frowned slightly, then corrected herself. “Sombra, perhaps. But not Talon as a whole. I fabricated an address when I was ordered to track you. A derelict building a few blocks away.”

“Why?” Lena couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why lie to them? For me?”

“For _her_ ,” Widowmaker answered. “You and I...we know the steps to our dance, _chérie._ We know the price we may pay. The _rules_.” Widowmaker picked up her mug again. “She is not ‘on the list’. I have no desire for her to be placed there.”

“Well.” Lena sat back in her chair and tried to process that. “Thank you. I don’t know what I expected you to say, but that means a lot to me.”

Widowmaker shrugged. “Talon may find her eventually. But I promise I will not give them anything by choice.”

Lena nodded soberly. “I understand. I appreciate you offering that much, honestly.” At the thought of Emily, she smiled and looked up to the clock. “Em’s going to be home soon. She’d probably tell you to stay for supper.”

Widowmaker shook her head. “I cannot.” She stood with what seemed like reluctance as she looked at the time. “I have been too long. If I do not report…”  
  
“Yeah,” Lena said as she imagined just what the consequences could be. “Yeah, I suppose that’s fair enough. Still - you obviously know where to find us. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“I cannot promise anything,” Widowmaker said as she walked to the door. “And in the field…”  
  
“Right. The usual.” Lena smirked. “Does this mean next time I can shoot _you_ in the leg?”  
  
Widowmaker gave a snort of a laugh, and the smirk on her lips had some genuine humor in it as she stepped out onto the balcony. “You are welcome to _try_.”

* * *

Each visit was brief. Unexpected. Unannounced. Sometimes with Emily at home, sometimes Lena. A few times both, and an offer of tea or some food often turned to talking about what they’d been up to, listening to Emily vent about her ‘nice, boring, incredibly _frustrating_ job’, and sometimes offering Widowmaker the couch again, if she was willing to stay the night.

By the fifth visit, Widowmaker had her own mug in the cupboard, that Emily had purchased just for her use. A glossy black, the glaze was decorated with interwoven spiderwebs all around the mug, and a black widow highlighted in red sat on the top of the handle.

“Found it at the bookstore across the way,” Emily had explained. “Knew you had to have it.”

Widowmaker had handled it like a priceless relic that had been dug out of some forgotten tomb. “May I keep it here?”

“Course you can,” Lena assured her. “That’s the whole point.”

By the end of that month, they’d started to call her _Amélie._

* * *

Emily made a frustrated growl in the back of her throat as she thumped her medical kit down on the coffee table.

“Stop flirting with _bullets_.”

“It’s not flirting,” Lena objected piously as she peeled off her shooting gloves. “It’s our _job_.”

Amélie made a noise that might have been agreement around the rag that Emily had stuck into her mouth to bite down on, one side of her uniform a torn up mess of dirt and blood where it hadn’t already been cut away.

Emily made her opinion of _that_ clear with a snort. “Sure it isn’t.” Examining the wound in Amélie’s shoulder, Emily hissed with dismay. “You’re bloody lucky pulse rounds cauterize on the way through. A regular bullet would have left you bleeding out the artery.” She reached for a scalpel, her face a mask of concentration. “I’m going to have to debride this before I try to use the biotics or it’s not going to heal well.” She looked up, meeting Amélie’s eyes. “Even with the numbing, it’ll hurt. Or I could give you enough to knock you out.”

Amélie shook her head firmly, and the message was clear. She would be awake for this, or not at all.

Given the very little she’d disclosed about what Talon had done to her, Emily didn’t blame her too much.

Even so, the part of her that wanted to avoid unnecessary pain for anyone she was trying to help made her stomach clench as Amélie cried out in pain around the gag as she worked. The groans and gasps got worse as she finished scraping the worst of the burnt and dead flesh away, and cleaning out the bits of armor spall, dirt, and remnants of her Widowmaker suit that had been lodged into the wound.

She was so focused on her work that Emily didn’t realize Amélie’s cries had become a bit softer as another voice joined the conversation.

“Easy, luv. Easy. You’re doing great, Amé. She’s almost got it - just a little more, OK?”

Widowmaker made an exhausted sound of agreement, like a marathon runner talking themselves up for the final mile.

“Just hold on to me,” Lena said soothingly as she took Amélie’s hand in hers. “Squeeze hard as you need to, ok?” Her smile turned a bit crooked. “Worst case is you break a few fingers, and the doctor’s already here, right?”

“Still not a doctor,” Emily mumbled as she put the bloody scalpel down on a towel, then reached for one of the biotic patches. “If I was, I’d have to charge you my consult fee.”  
  
“Yeah?” Lena’s expression was teasing, but Emily could see the nervousness in her eyes. “What’s the prognosis, then?”

Emily considered that seriously before she carefully placed the patch over Amélie’s shoulder. “I think it should be OK once this has time to work. But it _will_ need time - and you need rest, gorgeous.”

Amélie spat out the rag. “I cannot stay here. It is not safe.”

Lena frowned. “You said Talon usually doesn’t expect you right away. Especially after an op.”

Amélie shook her head. “They know I was wounded. They will want to know I am...still functional.”

Emily finished taping a bandage over the patch. “You shouldn’t use this arm unless absolutely necessary for the rest of the day. And how do you explain the patch? Or the bandages?”

“I could claim I stole them from an ambulance,” Amélie suggested. “Or made an EMT give me aid at gunpoint.”

“Might do,” Lena agreed. “But can you wear the grappling hook on the other hand?”

“No,” Widowmaker admitted as she looked to Emily. “How badly would using the hook impact me?”

Emily blanched at the very idea. “What, with your bad arm? Tearing muscles or separating the shoulder are best case scenarios.”

“I could be repaired later,” Amélie said with a shrug.

“You could also be _dead_ if that artery opens up again.” Emily crossed her arms over her chest. “That is _not_ on. You need at least a full day’s rest. Preferably two. Is there any way someone could cover for you?”

Lena’s eyes flicked nervously to Amélie. “Sombra? You did say she probably knows where the flat is.”

Amélie considered that for a moment, her frown deepening. “It will almost certainly come at a cost.”

“I’ll help pay it,” Lena said immediately. “If she wants intel on me, within reason...I’ll deal.”

“I will need my phone,” Amélie said reluctantly. “It is in my ammo pouch.”

Emily nodded as she gathered up her things. “Lena, grab it for her while I throw the trash away, and after I get my kit put back together, I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Coming right up!”

By the time Emily had returned from the kitchen, Amélie had her phone against her knee, carefully dialing using her good hand, while Lena was sitting next to her on the couch, lightly rubbing her bare back in an attempt to give her a bit of comfort.

Emily settled down in the chair across from them, putting the mugs she’d been carrying down for each of them.

“Sombra,” Amélie spoke flatly into the phone. “I…” She stopped, blinking, as the woman on the other end of the line said something. “How?” Her mouth flattened into a line, then a frown as she listened to what seemed to be a longer explanation. “I see. And what do you expect -”

The voice on the other end of the line must have interrupted her again, and a few moments later Amélie was ending the call, a look of bewilderment on her face.

Emily handed Amélie her usual mug, filled with the chamomile. “That didn’t seem to go quite the way you expected.”

“Sombra told me that she had already covered my absence with Talon. They believe I went for medical treatment in Oasis. She falsified records to that effect.” Amélie looked past the mug to Emily, uncertainty in her eyes. “She said to enjoy a few days with my girlfriends.”

Lena coughed and sputtered as the sip of tea she’d been taking nearly went up her nose. “Wait, _what?_ Girlfriends? Us?”

“I _did_ just tell you to stop flirting with bullets,” Emily pointed out. “Never said you couldn’t use _words_ , darling.”

Amélie seemed just as stunned. “You seem rather comfortable with the idea.”

Emily snorted as she gave Amélie an indulgent look. “World’s best sniper keeps ‘accidentally’ missing her target, or hitting her with grazes so minor that half the time all we have to do afterwards is stitch up another tear in her sleeves?” She looked over to Lena, whose eyes had suddenly widened with comprehension. “Woman who can _literally control time and space_ never quite gets the drop on her opponent, but will stomp a busload of thugs in half a second?”

“I mean,” Lena stammered slightly. “Amé’s _good_. Like, really, really good. I just…” She looked over. “Y’know. You keep up. And especially once you started coming over...”

Amélie picked up the line of thought, and Emily inwardly rolled her eyes as her girls continued to prove her point. “She is _annoying_ , but Lena is a gifted fighter. A worthy challenge. And she makes me feel…” Amélie looked back at her, and Emily reached across the table to take her hand. “You _both_ make me feel alive.”

“Yeah,” Lena admitted as she leaned her head against Amélie’s uninjured shoulder. “I guess when you put it all like that.”

Emily couldn’t help smirking just a little at them. “Oh, go on and kiss her, pet.”

Lena blushed scarlet as she sat straight again, her voice softening. “I’d love to - long as it’s ok with you, Amélie.”

“Yes,” Amélie murmured back as she leaned to meet Lena’s mouth with her own. “It is. It is very ‘ok’ with me.”

Emily watched their first kiss with a fond smile, feeling as if something they’d all been missing had finally fallen into place. “Well. That’s settled, then.”

Lena giggled as she carefully disengaged, mindful of Amélie’s condition. “You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier?”

“I thought you both _knew_ ,” Emily said with only half-feigned exasperation. “Or at least were working it out for yourselves.”

“Still could have _said_ ,” Lena grumped before she sat up enough to lean across the table for a kiss from Emily.

“Yes, well,” Emily observed dryly. “Apparently socially oblivious superwomen is my kink.”

Amélie rolled her eyes, then picked up her mug to take another sip. “If I were to guess, _ma belle,_ I would have expected your fetish to be for the tea.”

“Or playing doctor,” Lena piped up, and when they’d all finished laughing, they agreed that Amélie and Lena both needed to change into comfier clothes.

They had a full pot of tea, a few movies to watch, and an injured girlfriend to cuddle.

Emily thought that sounded like a very promising start to whatever came next.

* * *

“I _hate_ spring,” Emily complained as she blew her nose into a tissue. “It never fails - the flowers open up and my allergies try to kill me.”

“That is quite unacceptable,” Amélie agreed as she came back from the kitchen, a steaming mug in either hand. “I am the only one allowed to kill either of you.”

Emily tried and failed to breathe through her nose again before she gave her girlfriend an appropriately sour look. “That’s not nearly as reassuring as you think it is, dearheart.”

“Lena will be back from the pharmacy soon,” Amélie said with a quiet warmth beneath her words. “Drink this.”

At first all Emily got from a sip of the tea was the warmth of the beverage and a soothing feeling from what must have been honey blended into it as it went down her throat, but then a spicy kick of ginger and a sharper flavor beneath it began to register on her dulled taste buds.

“Oh. That’s...that’s _lovely_.” Emily sniffed at the mug. “Is there some mint in that?”

“Mint,” Amélie confirmed as she settled next to her, “stinging nettles, ginger, and lemon balm.”  
  
“Mmmm.” Emily sighed happily as she took another drink, then leaned her head against Amélie’s shoulder. “I didn’t think we had a blend like that in the cupboard.”

“We didn’t,” Amélie said with quiet pride. “I went to the tea shop and had them make this blend for you.”

Emily carefully put her mug on the end table. “This from the woman who didn’t even know if she liked tea.” She snuggled a little closer, touched by the gesture and everything it represented. “You’ve come a long way.”

“No,” Amélie said with a little smile before she leaned into give Emily a tender kiss. “ _We_ have.”

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was originally published in the [Femwatch](https://femwatchthezine.tumblr.com/) zine, and can be found collected there with art and stories from many other creators!


End file.
